Buffy moved through the house as if she had been broken. 

And, Willow thought, that’s exactly what had happened. Not in the physical sense, which was evident when she had kicked the Turok-Han’s ass, but it was inside that was all but dead. No one had heard anything from LA no matter how often they called. And since Wesley’s call to Anya it was almost every hour on the hour that they tried.

With each passing day Buffy grew worse, believing that her only real love was indeed dead. Oh, she put on a brave face for Dawn and the potentials and Willow even believed it for a while. After all, it had been years and surely she should have been over Angel in the strictest sense; naturally she was probably upset over his death – they all were – but not enough to incapacitate her, right? 

But then the witch heard her friend crying, great pitiful sobs, in Giles’ arms and realized just how much she still cared for, still loved, Angel and just what she was doing. 

There was nothing anyone could do, though they honestly had no idea where to even begin to try. 

And Xander…Willow felt her heart break again as she thought of her dead friend. He had fallen in an attempt to protect her and the slayers-in-training from the things that had swarmed them. Some of those potential slayers had died then, too, though the rest of the gang hadn’t realized it at the time. 

A knock on the door brought Willow out of her thoughts and she rose to answer it, immensely glad to have something, at last, to do. 

“FAITH?!” 

She hadn’t meant to scream the name, but there on the step was a very bloody slayer none of them had ever thought – had really hoped never to see – again. It was day out and the other woman wasn’t in flames, so vampire was ruled out – what a strange thought but really, Willow hadn’t expected to ever see her again what with jail and all – but the slayer looked bad, really bad like she had been beaten to within an inch of her life and then some. 

And how the hell did she get out of jail? 

At Willow’s shout, the entire house came running but Willow was still staring at the wounded slayer. All the old resentment came bubbling back, the jealously, the fact that not only had Buffy trusted Faith, once upon a time, more than she, Willow, but that Faith had betrayed them all, tried to kill them or, failing that, have them all eaten by a giant snake. Nice to know that she had worked through these feelings, Willow thought as she still made no move to help Faith. 

Buffy’s gasp of shock brought Willow back to the situation at hand. 

Together the two friends managed to move the semi-conscious slayer to the couch as Willow shouted for Dawn to get some first aid supplies and one of the slayers-in-training to find Giles. 

“B, B, I’m sorry, so sorry. I couldn’t stop him. Too strong, wasn’t prepared for…. You got to go to LA, B, gotta go…” Faith said, her mouth parched, her lips cracked and dried. 

Her eyes weren’t really opened, but her hand reached out surely to grasp Buffy’s. She had made it; she had made it to Sunnydale. Faith wasn’t sure how, parts of the last few days were hazy at best, but here she was and Buffy was right there. She had made it, she had made it, she had made it… 

Faith didn’t question how, she thought for sure Angelus was going to kill her personally, but that hadn’t happened. Unless, Faith wondered, her pain fractured mind suddenly latching onto the thought, that was his plan?  Had he wanted her to escape to Sunnydale, was it just one giant trap? 

“Faith, what happened?” The question of why she wasn’t still in jail could wait until another time. It somehow didn’t seem really relevant at the moment, not with the other slayer mumbling about Los Angeles. “What are you doing here?” 

“Some vamp, B, the first one, it came, changed Angel…” No matter what had happened to Faith, no matter what she had done, no matter what had been done to her, she really didn’t want to say these next words.

“He’s Angelus again.” 

There was silence in the house and then, 

“I know.” A whisper, a sigh, laced with pain, sorrow, grief, knowledge. Everything that she had been feeling, the conflicting emotions with both Angel and Angelus, it all pinpointed into those two words. She knew he was back, had sensed it the second it happened. Buffy didn’t question how, she didn’t need to.  

They were connected, the entire man, demon, soul, every nuance that had once made up Angel was connected to Buffy. Time, it seemed had not diminished it. Buffy’s hand went limp and slipped from Faith’s grasp. 

Willow stopped her ministrations on Faith’s face and arms, and turned sharply to look at Buffy. She knew? She knew and didn’t tell her? Willow, her best friend? She knew that psychotic lunatic that had once terrorized them for months had returned and never bothered to say a word about it? “Buffy, you knew…?” 

The water Dawn had been carrying in for the second slayer slipped from the girl’s hand and fell, unnoticed, to the floor. She remembered, vaguely, Angelus first appearance in Sunnydale. And while the memories weren’t real, the fear, the hurt, were. And Buffy, who hadn’t been able to do anything about it… “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

The slayers to be, those that remained, had no idea what was going on but the atmosphere in the house had them, once again, rethinking their ability to defeat this big evil. 

Giles, standing in the hallway had heard his former charge’s words. Heard her words, felt the betrayal lance through him at the fact that she, again, hadn’t told them something so important concerning Angel and his alter ego. But he kept his mouth closed, having no idea what to do let alone say. Still, his stance, his eyes, screamed his disappointment at her. 

Faith, slipping in and out of reality as she was, noted Buffy’s friend’s reactions and thought, not for the first time, that they weren’t really as supporting as they claimed. And she wanted to be a part of this group once? They hadn’t accepted her, either, only Buffy had; minimally, but she had. 

Something inside Buffy cracked. That little piece of hope that she had been clinging to started to rupture and leak. Slowly, piece-by-piece, it began to fall away until nothing replaced it. There was simply nothing there. 

So this was it then. This was how it was to finally end.

She couldn’t kill him again; she knew that. But she would have to; she knew that, too. 

And once she did…once she killed her only love, she would kill herself. Or let The First do it for her, either way, it was done. She couldn’t live in a world where he wasn’t there, someplace. Not again. She had never truly recovered from the last time and honestly had no desire to even try to do so again. 

She would stop this coming Blood Harvest, whatever that was, and she would kill her lover.

And maybe then she’d finally know the peace of eternal rest.
~~~~~~~~~~
A dozen blood red roses arrived that night. The letter was simply signed, ‘For eternity, Love, A.’ 

Another dozen arrived first thing the next morning, this letter saying, ‘To think I waited so long for this. Soon, my love, ~A.’ 

Later that morning it was several drawings: she and Angel in a heated kiss, Angelus bringing her to orgasm with his hands and mouth, her rising over top him as she took him deeply into her waiting body. Buffy didn’t know how she could tell the difference between the two just from the pictures, but she knew. As, she suspected, Angelus had meant for her to know. 

The card that accompanied it asked, ‘Do you remember how good it was, beloved? ~A’ 

She didn’t need the rest of his short missive to know he meant, ‘It can and will be that way again.’ 

Great, taunts. He had badmouthed her one time with Angel to the point of crushing her for just about anyone else and now he wanted her back? Maybe that was the point; he wanted her but on his terms. She had refused to give in to him during his first appearance and that had angered him more than she had thought possible. 

Maybe this was simply a warning? Still, there was a distinct tingling racing through her at the thought. She had never admitted to anyone that even without his precious soul she wanted the body. Angelus had known and used that particular point to antagonize her over and over, both mentally and in a teasingly physical way. 

The question now, she supposed, was would she give in this time? What did she have left to lose?

The potentials, not really understanding who Angelus was, thought it was romantic. Anya only said that if Angelus was after Buffy she wanted enough warning to leave the Summers’ residence. Dawn and Willow thought it romantic, too, but quickly amended that to in a stalker kind of way and decided to remain silent. Giles wanted to throw the flowers out and burn the drawings. 

But Buffy couldn’t. The flowers hadn’t done anything and the drawings…it was best not to go there. 

The last thing to arrive that day was a ring. It was a gold claddagh, where the heart was lay a blood red ruby. ‘For she shall be more pure than a ruby…I guess, lover, we know that in your case that just isn’t true. But that shall soon be remedied. Remember: Wear it with the heart pointing towards you, it means you belong to someone. You are mine. Love, A.’ 

Buffy looked at the ring a long time before closing her fist around the metal and going upstairs. No one stopped her though she could hear their excited whispers as she ascended the stairs; couldn’t they just stay out of her life for once? It was unusually quiet in Sunnydale tonight and she had planned on using this time to catch up on her sleep. 

Apparently the universe, and Angelus, had other things in mind. 

She wasn’t going to wear it, of course she wasn’t. 

But Buffy fell asleep with the ring still firmly enclosed in her fist and dreamt. 

She hadn’t been here in years. Angel’s old apartment, the one where he had taken her virginity and his demon had belittled her first sexual experience. Nothing had changed from the last time she had been there, the bed still rumpled, the artificial light low and intimate. Spent passion hung in the air, giving one more edge to the scene. 

“Why aren’t you wearing my ring, love?” Angel/Angelus asked, his eyes deep pools of mystery. 

“Because he gave it to me,” Buffy replied not really sure which half of her love was in the dream. “I can’t.” 

He walked closer, circling her, studying her, prey to his predator, but she didn’t give in. Watched him in return, eyes wary, focused, unyielding. Hopeful and passionate. He reached out a hand, gliding it along bare skin, sensitized skin. 

Flicked long fingers over nipples that responded immediately, aching hard points that begged for more of his touch. Buffy withheld the gasp, pleasure, want, need coursed through her as she continued to look into his eyes fully aware all that hers showed. His had darkened more, equal passion visible there, flecked with gold, black and night. 

Angel, Angelus, she couldn’t tell, they were merging together, why could she not tell? He leaned forward, closer, cool nonexistent breath floating over her cheek, her ear as he purred, “He is me, Buffy, and we both love you.” 

“He doesn’t love me, he wants to kill me. I miss you, Angel.” Buffy said softly even as she opened her hand, though, and looked at the ring. 

“Oh, but we do love you. Different ways, but it is there. Wear it, Buffy. Wear it because he is me and I am him. Wear it because you love the both of us. Need and want, crave and desire the both of us.” He leaned back just enough to look at her, hands still caressing, eyes soft with love. 

Then a change. 

A quick smirk flashed on his face at the heightened scent of her arousal. So delicious, so passionate, so perfect. Bent again to allow lips to caress her collarbone, nibbling his way down to her breasts as his hand moved the thin cloth covering his goal. Smiled at her gasp as she arched into his mouth, seeking more and he willingly complied, fingers caressing her until she shattered for him, only him. His hands held her upright, her body struggling not to go limp from his touch. 

What was wrong with her? Buffy didn’t know, didn’t care, this was all that mattered. This: these feelings, this touch, this mouth, his, his, his, all his. All that mattered…fangs scraped along her breast drawing blood and that was what brought her back; not all the way, but enough so she gasped out, 

“I-I…I can’t…Angel?” 

“Why not, love?” He asked and kissed her then, taking away her protest and her breath. Taking the ring from her hand, he regarded her for a moment deep eyes pulling her in and holding her there. 

“I’m afraid.” 

“Of what?” 

“That once I put it on I’ll never want to take it off.” She hated knowing that she wanted the demon as much as the soul. 

“You won’t ever need to Buffy, my love. Forever,” he whispered voice deepening even more causing her to shiver in his embrace, “That’s the whole point.” 

Buffy awoke with a jolt and looked around, half expecting to see Angel and/or Angelus in her room. But it was only her and the just rising sun. Looking at her left hand, there was the ring, heart pointing inward as he had placed it on her finger. 

It looked like it belonged there and Buffy supposed it did. Still, it probably wouldn’t do to wear this gift. Reluctantly grasping the cool metal Buffy tugged. It wouldn’t move. 

“Damn it, Angelus!” She muttered to no one as no one was there. Of course he’d have it magickally enhanced, of course he would. She should have thought to have Willow check that first, but no, she had to sleep with it in her hand, didn’t she? 

“Damn you, Angelus,” she said again and gave up trying to pry the ring off. But she could have sworn that she heard his laughter on the wind and his voice whispering in a low erotic tone, ‘Soon, my love.’
~~~~~~~~~~
The blood was already flowing. 

All over the world it was flowing in a wonderfully deep color, rivers of it, all heading in one direction: Straight towards the Hellmouth. Oh, not literally, no, but that wasn’t the point. Its innocents were dieing and Its power growing. Soon nothing would be able to stop It. 

Throwing back Its head It laughed a deep rich sound that echoed off the cavern walls. Spike looked at the manifestation of Darla and wondered if It had chosen that form to piss him off. Obviously, tormenting him with the image of Buffy hadn’t the desired effect. But did It really think he’d cower under Darla? 

“That wasn’t my point, my Spike,” It said, reading his mind, even as It morphed from Darla to Drusilla. “I can choose any form I wish, pet, any form to make the seer believe. It’s rather exhilarating.” 

‘Drusilla’ turned to him again, running her hand over his puffy face. “It’s almost time you know. Nothing the slayer can do will stop me; plans are in motion that she couldn’t even conceive of and that’s only the beginning. Darkness will rule this land and the only two creatures in existence that could possibly help our brave little heroine are either chained up in my cave…or have reverted to his soulless self. Then again,” It said, once again in the guise of Buffy, “You weren’t foreseen. You can go either way…will you join me of your own free will?” 

Spike looked at ‘Buffy’ and wondered. Just how strong was he? He didn’t have the answer to that so he didn’t say anything.

But the First seemed to know this and turned to leave, a delighted smile on Its face.
~~~~~~~~~~
My will is resolved. I know what I must do. As I sit by my window looking out at the tree that once helped my lover climb to me I methodically go through everything that has been my life.

I know, now, why I was ‘allowed’ to return. I know that the purpose of my rebirth was to see this day. This day I wish I had no desire to see, making me wish I had stayed dead. Stop the apocalypse. Check. Weaken the First. Check. Rescue Spike? Possibly. He’s being controlled by the First and I doubt that by simply removing him from any direct influence will stop that controlling. 

Reconcile with Faith. Check. Why you ask? Because she’s the last. Last hope for survival once I’m gone. Last hope for me to have any chance of winning this coming battle. Last hope for my friends, my family to see the new day after I, no, we I suppose, stop this apocalypse. 

So I will reconcile with Faith, try to bury or ignore or simply push aside every single hateful thing we’ve done to each other, every single act that tore my sister and I apart. I can no longer deny that when I’m with her I feel a part of something bigger than I am, even as the Slayer. 

We’re the Chosen Two. And it’s about time we accept that. 

Okay, so I’m not fooling myself. I’m reconciling with her only to fight this thing. Only to fight the First and stop this harvest, only to fight the Beast in LA and…Angelus; I can’t do it alone because there are too many things to fight. So I’m reconciling with my sister slayer because if I don’t then there’s really no hope for any of it. 

Find a way to fight Angel. 

That’s harder and I’m not entirely certain I can place a check in that column. According to Faith’s information he’s no longer a vampire. He’s a VAMPIRE. He’s been reborn or something using the blood from that Turok-Han, making him…more. And still it isn’t that that is cause for pause. 

It’s the fact that I still want him. 

It’s the fact that I still love him. 

Is it the darkness in my soul that calls for him?

Yes and no, it’s more than that and I know that now; Dracula was right when he said my power was rooted in darkness. I love Angel with everything I am and I know nothing will ever change that. Angelus is part of Angel so I love him, too; I crave him with the same intensity the light half of my soul worships Angel. There is both light and darkness in me and in Angel there is the soul and the demon; a perfect compliment. But it’s not even that, it’s the knowledge that in killing Angelus I’m killing every last hope I ever carried. 

I know everyone noticed the ring on my finger but no one said anything. I almost wished they had, then, at least, I could have proven that it was magickally enhanced and couldn’t be removed. Just my luck, the one time they do stay out of my personal life it’s over something I almost wish I could explain. 

And still a part of me doesn’t want it removed, knows that it belongs on my finger and nothing and no one will ever remove it.

So I sit here, watching a soft breeze play through the tree to my window. A lover’s gentle caress that reminds me what I had once and what I am to lose. 

Do I have the strength to kill him? I killed the Turok-Han and it almost killed me in the process. Angelus is smarter, faster, less drooly and certainly less ugly than the Turok-Han. He has more recent experience and more importantly, experience in fighting me. 

Turok didn’t. He couldn’t win because he didn’t elicit feelings in me other than determination, hatred, dominance. I was stronger than he and that was that. 

I’m not stronger than Angelus. 

If I was then I wouldn’t allow him into my dreams, allow him to do things to my body I’ve long craved. Allow him access to my inner most desires, all of which he knows and all of which he is the cause. 

If I was then I wouldn’t call his name out at that precise moment when my world coalesces into a pinpoint of pleasure; and right before it all explodes outward I look into his eyes, sometimes brown and sometimes golden, and yet all I see is him. And then that eternity of a moment is over and I’m falling, screaming my pleasure even as he screams his…even as he drinks from my willing throat. 

‘Mine,’ he always says and I make no move to disagree with him. ‘Mine to do with as I please, my mate, my lover, mine.’ 

My response is always the same as well, ‘Yours, Angelus, forever yours, my love.’ 

There’s a knock on my door and I call out to whoever is there. It’s Faith and one look at her and I know she knows. Knows what she has to do, knows what I plan on doing. We don’t speak and I’m suddenly happier than I can say that this Slayer Bond we share is back. I hadn’t realized I missed it until she came back. 

“I’ll take care of them, B.” And from the look in her eye, the determination, the courage, the fear even, I know she will. 

“I know, Faith. Thanks.”

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